


see you tomorrow

by halophyle



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Confessions, Light Angst, M/M, Mark of Mastery (Kingdom Hearts), Mutual Pining, Sharing a Bed, Training, mentions of namixi, one (1) curse word, post kh3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 15:00:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18075614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halophyle/pseuds/halophyle
Summary: At the end of the day, Roxas has to admit that somewhere down the road he’d lost all hope of seeing Axel ever again. Now that life has given them a second chance, Roxas finds himself at crossroads, stunned and unsure how to proceed.-Axel and Roxas team up for the Mark of Mastery exam and there are a lot of old feelings left to solve.





	see you tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> i pour one out to akuroku and tetsuya nomura

“This place has the best view,” Axel tells him, sweeping a lean arm in the air – a weak ‘voila!’ of sorts. Heavy soles crunch against the dry grass, a twig snapping under the heel. In the distance, he can hear faint bird-songs. The breeze lightly rustles the leafy capes of massive trees, trunks so thick it’d take at least a handful of people holding hands to fully hug them. A family of crows flies by overhead, cawing noisily. Blue eyes follow the birds’ lean bodies until they disappear into the red-pink horizon.

Axel takes his time, patiently waits for his companion to take everything in.

_Sometimes I’d sit here for hours and think of you, of the past and the short-lived periods of peace. During those moments, I’d miss you more than ever._

It’s quiet. Peaceful. The forest smells of pine sap and ancient magic.

Axel’s wild mane looks even more profoundly crimson against the backdrop of slow twilight. The tall man is facing his way, shoulders lax and lips barely curved, either somewhat encouraging or simply waiting for approval – Axel does not need to smile. Not when he has eyes like that _—_ pools of shimmering emerald, almost chartreuse with all those red hues painting their surroundings. They’re unusually earnest and open. Happy.

The forest looks like it has caught fire. It’s hot, humid almost. There’s sweat under his thick collar and a blooming heat on his cheeks.

Axel’s eyes are the only specks of lively green on a canvas splashed in rubies.

Roxas squints against the setting sun, it hangs low in the sky as though suspended with its journey into the horizon prolonged; after all, this place was frozen in time, blinking away the sheen of moisture clinging to his eyelashes. Lets the heat soak into his skin – _his_ , not Sora’s. No one else’s.

“It’s just like the Clock tower,” Roxas gives out his verdict, voice deceptively neutral despite his private amazement.

Axel grins, already familiar with the blond’s reserved ways, body language. He hums, a slight bounce to his step, “I think that’s why it’s my favorite. No place like home, huh?” Axel sits on one of the boulders, patting its surface – an offer for Roxas to perch next to him.

He does it, albeit a bit slowly, busy dragging his feet and taking in the amazing sights before him, etching the curves of the slopes and the tops of the powerful trees into his mind and memory as though it’s something precious, something meant for him alone. Roxas knows that eventually he’ll be getting sick of seeing those exact same trees and hearing that family of crows over and over again, right until their training is complete, but for now, it’s different. “Home…” he trails off, brushing a palm over the sun-warmed uneven surface of the rock.

“You know,” Axel offers, a bit awkwardly, “Twilight town. Technically, we could refer to it as our home.”

“I don’t know, Axel,” Roxas huffs, snorting a little. “Calling our base established by a deranged old fart who’d also led our murder-friendly organization ‘home’ is a bit…”

“I know,” Axel waves him off, “I’m still trying to make sense of things.”

“Like what?” Roxas raises an eyebrow, an amused smirk curving his mouth as though he’s internally making fun of Axel or having fun watching him struggle with words.

“Like this whole…” He looks at his hands as though he can hardly believe that those two limbs actually belong on his body. Belong to him. Roxas is familiar with the feeling. “Having a second life thing. Just life, I guess?” he sighs, placing bony elbows on lean legs and looks into the distance.

Roxas has these exact same thoughts all the time, has had them ever since the moment he came into existence. Seeing Axel broody and wistful like this simply isn’t in his character. Striving to relieve his best friend of those thoughts, Roxas harshly nudges the tall redhead in the side, grinning playfully. “Hey, it’s okay. We’re not exactly leading your usual convenient everyday lifestyles,” he vaguely gestures at their surroundings. “Not quite human keyblade wielders, Guardians of the Light and protectors of the worlds. Soon to be Keyblade Masters.”

Axel’s gaze nearly sears him in its intensity, eyes widening slightly. If he looks closely enough, Roxas can make out the reflection of his own dumbfounded expression. Tenderly, Axel touches his rib-cage _—_ oh come on, Roxas didn’t shove _that hard _—__ gripping at his vest as though amazed by the faint pang of pain.

Bizarre heat creeps back to Roxas’ face and the inside of his collar.

“What?” he mutters, frowning to mask confusion. Axel’s being weird, has been weird since the tearful reunion of their promised second life. He’s even more careful now, words and actions calculated and deliberate. Somewhat closed off, as though Axel was having a hard time believing that any of this was real rather than a mere daydream from which he was bound to wake up.

There’s a sea salt ice cream being shoved under his nose when Axel grins, all squinty-eyed and perfect. Roxas feels his palms sweat as he reaches out to take the treat, skin tingling whenever they accidentally brush hands. It’s a new sensation, they’d usually have two sets of gloves in the way, twin barriers of impersonality. “Cheers to the new Keyblade Masters,” Axel says and they clink their ice creams as though they’re glasses of wine, biting into them simultaneously.

Axel winces at the impromptu brain-freeze while Roxas mutters “Where’d you even keep these hidden” around a mouthful of his favorite snack.

* * *

 

Xion _—_ who’s had a fair share of traumatizing memories connected to battles and keyblades _—_ has abandoned the field completely in favor of leading a normal everyday lifestyle with Namine, both girls currently residing in Twilight town, the rent of their shared flat situated at the edge of the town’s center covered by the Restoration Committee. Isa has returned to Radiant Garden, his old hometown, not quite willing to give up on his search, now helped out by Ansem’s scientist team.

Roxas has no time to even think about missing the girls whereas Lea has no thoughts left to spare for dear Isa as they clash over and over again, metal clanging noisily in the bizarre calmness of the woods. Merlin had kindly suggested they should give up and rest for the day, but neither wanted to give, wanting to emerge victorious.

A burst of flames left Roxas hissing at the heat and then at the burst of pain in his back as Axel kicked him backwards, sending him crashing into the ground. With a loud clang and a graceless bounce, Oathkeeper and Oblivion slide out of Roxas’ range. There’s a long-fingered hand harshly grasping Roxas’ slightly charred bicep, a fire-based keyblade stabbed into the ground barely an inch away from his face, its metal radiating strong heat, and a tickle of red, soft strands on the tip of his nose.

“Do you give?” Axel croons smugly, basking in his victory.

Roxas stays silent, if only to have that comforting weight on top of him a little while longer. There’s a smell of burning hair, _his_ hair; he should say something, anything, but all he can think of is Axel’s expression from _back then_ , the _fake_ Twilight town – his grin was just as cocky yet his ever-expressive eyes remained hollow. Hurt by Roxas’ lack of recognition and anger.

“Do you?” Axel repeats himself, a little less self-assured, surprised by Roxas’ sudden bout of silence and narrowed, empty eyes.

Oblivion materializes in his left hand. Fast, silent and deadly, Roxas’ brings it to the side of Axel’s neck before the redhead can even react to the quick movement, the rustling of the chain.

“Never.” Roxas smirks at the bead of sweat running down Axel’s brow and the nervous bob of his Adam’s apple. Satisfied, he throws Axel off himself, unwilling to indulge in his muddled feelings, old and new.

* * *

 

The temporary stay at Master Yen Sid’s tower feels lonesome.

People come and go all the time, never staying longer than absolutely necessary. Roxas encounters familiar faces almost daily, most of them unsmiling and bearing no good news – Sora’s whereabouts were still unknown. Helping others find Sora was one of the main reasons why Roxas had signed up for the Mark of Mastery exam in the first place, eager to learn a new range of skills to help out his Somebody. Like Riku, who looked paler and sicker every time Roxas saw him pass by, he was unwilling to accept the reality of Sora’s apparent ‘death’. While their connection had grown nearly non-existent after the complete separation, Roxas still _believed_ – still wanted to give _him_ a shot and be the one to guide his Somebody out of wherever he was currently trapped in. Show some gratefulness.

Axel wasn’t as optimistic, but it’d hardly mattered to Roxas as the blond fully threw himself into his training, distancing himself from the redhead in the process.

The only times he and Axel ever interacted were during sparring practice, and even then Roxas would merely thank Axel for coming at him seriously, no punches held, and then he’d be on his merry way to learn more spells and practice new moves.

The date of their exam inched closer and despite being more than ready to tackle it with a full arsenal at his disposal, Roxas has never felt more alone.

Xion wishes him luck via the Gummiphone, tells him that he’s going to do great. Same for Axel. Encourages Roxas to go see him.

It’s a strange hint, but it strikes Roxas immediately – he hasn’t seen Axel for over a week. Not at the breakfast table, which he’d usually skipped out on, so that explains a lot, not at the training hall, not outside. He might’ve caught a glimpse of black and red once while perfecting his Firaga outside – a person situated on the ledge of one of the many balconies of the Mysterious tower, watching the sun dipping lower into the horizon. But it might’ve been just Roxas’ imagination, his buried yearning to talk to his best friend; when he’d blinked, the figure was already gone.

Nervous and too awkward to leave his room to seek out Axel after a long period of not talking, Roxas crashes into a fitful sleep.

It’s unpleasant.

The moment his guard is down, the overwhelming amount of stress catches up with him and manifests in the shape of gross hyper-realistic nightmares that leave Roxas sweating and gasping for breath when he sits upright in his bed, body tense and twisted with the fight or flight instinct. Taking a minute to breathe and convince himself that he wasn’t actually trapped in a heart-shaped glass box inside Sora, hopelessly watching his best friends die gruesome deaths, and never will be, that he wasn’t useless and no longer had to shatter the glass or scream bloody murder into the void in hopes that someone would hear and answer, Roxas untangles himself from the mess of damp bed sheets and blindly looks for his shoes, kicking them on like house slippers.

The circular hallways of the tower are cold and Roxas shivers at the slightest puffs of breeze, snuggling into the blanket dragging behind him even tighter. There isn’t a single soul anywhere, the pad of his footsteps strangely eerie. Distraught and overwhelmed, he quickens his pace, nearly running all the way to Axel’s room situated three floors above.

He hesitates at the arched doorway, grasping the circular brass handle. Considers knocking but decides against it when another chill runs its icy fingers down his sticky shirt.

Axel looks ridiculous with his hair standing up in all directions, sleep-heavy eyes alert and baffled as though he’s just see a ghost – an awkward teen huddled up in white sheets.

For a moment, they say nothing, Roxas now far too embarrassed and tongue-tied to function while trying to pick his brain for the right words; and Axel fervently rubbing at his eyes as though confirming that this isn’t some magical mirage.

Roxas opens his mouth for the nth time and then sighs, shoulders slumping in defeat whereas Axel finally finds his voice. “Roxas..? What are you _—_ ”

Another beat of silence. Roxas becomes painfully aware of the fact that Axel is topless and the bed isn’t that wide, really. The redhead looks like an out of place shadow against the moonlight streaming into the sparsely-furnished room through the uncovered windows. “Can I stay here for the night?” he voices out his request, humble and mousey.

“I _—_ ” Axel starts and Roxas can see his eyes widen even in the dark _—_ they look like they’re glowing with how startlingly green they are. Roxas braces himself for the inevitable rejection _—_ go away, we’ve got a long day ahead of us, can you leave? Why’d you come here, why didn’t you knock, you’re seriously scared? Are you a defenseless baby? _—_ but Axel trips over his words as he gets up and quickly starts rearranging the sheets and the pillows to make more room, quickly throwing on a shirt. “I _—_ yeah, that’s alright. It’s gonna be a bit of tight squeeze, but _—_ ”

Instead of replying, Roxas drags himself to Axel’s bed and falls into the freed up space, lying down on his side, back to Axel. He becomes hyper-aware of Axel’s intake of breath and the slight halt in his movements.

“Is there a reason why you decided to crash here?” Axel asks carefully, as though threading on coals, afraid to probe in case they’re still hot.

“Nightmare,” Roxas answers, emotionless. A clear sign he doesn’t wish to elaborate.

“I see,” is all that Axel says with a painful understanding in his voice and settles back down into the bed. He’s so damn sympathetic that Roxas fears to think of the redhead’s own nighttime terrors. “Should I…” he trails off, awkward, “face the other way?”

“I don’t care, it’s your bed,” Roxas says and tries to convey it with his voice that he does not wish for Axel to turn away from him. Not in the slightest, not when he’s warm and oh-so-alive instead of bleeding out on the pavement, reaching out to Sora yet asking for _him_ , asking for _Roxas_ who is trapped and screaming and crying and calling out to Axel over and over again, unheard and unseen. He’s here and he’s real – a solid presence an inch of space away from Roxas’ high-strung back.

There’s a tender touch on Roxas’ shoulder, feather-light. Testing the waters. Roxas nearly melts into it, nerves unraveling, sinking deeper into the mattress.  He barely contains a relieved sigh.

Axel’s fingers leave five points of fire-like contact, burning. For a second, Roxas thinks that perhaps he is touch starved; however, the hand is quick to disappear. Axel curls around him, almost protectively, but there are two sheets between them functioning as a barrier and that one inch of wretched space that Roxas does not dare to close no matter how much he wants it.

Still, he readily drifts off into the land of sleep the moment he stills and focuses on Axel’s steady, even breaths instead of his urges and needs.

He thinks that he feels a lean arm mindlessly draping itself across his torso.

* * *

 

Roxas wakes up to the warm rays of sun caressing his face and the smell of tinder and pine sap. He peels open his sleep-heavy eyelids and yawns, taking in the red and orange hues outside.

He’s never felt more tired but, at the same time, well-rested.

“Finally awake? I was almost certain that I had you mixed up with Ventus, Sleeping Beauty,” Axel laughs from the corner of the room, a book in hand. He’s fully dressed. Roxas feels his grasp on time and reality slip away as he yawns yet again. The bed sheets feel too good against his skin. “It’s already late afternoon,” Axel fills him in, turning to face the window. “You were out for the entire day.”

Roxas takes in a bone-deep breath of the too familiar scent, runs callused fingertips over the pale bed sheets, finds a long red hair stuck on his gray t-shirt, silently observes Axel’s handsome, gently illuminated profile, focuses on those mesmerizing green irises and thinks to himself – _I’m home_.

* * *

 

There’s one more night left until the Mark of Mastery exam. Roxas moves his things to Axel’s room and they share the bed meant for one person until the end of their stay and the two of them walk out of the tower as Keyblade Masters.

 

* * *

 

Twilight town is a place filled with memories, and now, celebration.

Their friends had gathered in one place to congratulate the new Masters – something that rarely ever happened, everyone too busy dealing with their own world affairs. Roxas had lost count of the amount of people who’d shaken his hand in the span of eight hours, Xion and Namine’s apartment functioning as their party estate – and, from now on, Roxas’ temporary home.

Moving in felt kind of weird, especially when he had no stuff on himself to make the room seem very… homely, yet Xion and Namine had reassured Roxas that gathering a collection of personal belongings was an awesome and lengthy experience in its own right, one that was bound to happen eventually. Namine’s room was decorated in white lace and dried wildflowers, every bit of space filled with books and art supplies, multiple sketchbooks; whereas Xion took a liking to collecting seashells and sea-life adorned items. In contrast, her room was significantly darker than Namine’s, dominated by blacks and blues, one wall dedicated to a painted image of Destiny Islands – one that she and Namine had painted together.

Roxas can’t wait to start this part of his new life – one where he gets to be his own person with his own hobbies and tastes. Sure, he won’t be leading your usual daily life, not with the many missions meant to restore the world-balance and whatnot, but this was a decent start.

When he lies down on his bed, it feels a bit too roomy and big for his tastes.

After all, Axel won’t be there to occupy the second pillow anymore.

Predictably, Axel is the last one to leave, helping out with the cleaning. To Roxas, it seems as though he’s stalling for time, looking for excuses to stay just a little longer. He’ll be leaving on his first mission tomorrow morning _—_ god knows how long it’ll be before they get to see each other again, especially with Roxas’ own mission to Atlantica lined up and waiting.

Axel busies himself with cracking jokes and easily conversing with Xion, catching up on lost time. It feels same as ever, like nothing’s out of place, yet Roxas can still feel Axel’s lingering gaze on him, nearly burning holes into his very soul. More often than not, he looks up just to meet those heated, prolonged stares, _never_ looking away first. Xion does a pretty decent job at catching Axel’s attention, anyways.

It’s nearly night time when Axel finally says his farewells and steps outside, waving at the girls with Roxas standing in the doorway, leaning heavily against the frame. Behind him Xion mouths something and heatedly points at Roxas as though he’s completely unaware of it and drags Namine back inside, leaving the two alone.

Silence settles heavy and pregnant with Axel taking in a short, rushed breath and forcing out a fake toothy grin. “Well, Rox’, I’ll be seeing you later.”

Roxas doesn’t move. Doesn’t even blink. Crosses his arms over his chest and gives Axel an unimpressed stare. Doesn’t ask questions, lets his body language do all the talking for him.

Pins Axel with his own fiery stare.

The redhead gets the message across. Axel’s shoulders slump forward as he rubs a palm over his tired-looking face, snorting, “You’re not making this easy for me.”

“Trust me—you’re not getting the easy way out. It’s already way past that.” Roxas shrugs, supposedly nonchalant. “Out with it. You’ve been staring the entire night, and frankly speaking, it’s been driving me crazy.”

“Roxas,” Axel lets out an exasperated breath, but it gets him nothing other than a taunting eyebrow raise. “Roxas, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you,” he gives in after three minutes of back and forth staring, resigning himself to the inevitable. Privately, Roxas cheers at his own resolve.

“You don’t say.”

“Don’t be an ass about it.” The blond only huffs a dignified laugh at that. “It’s something I’ve wanted to get off my chest for a while now,” Axel pauses, uncertain, and looks up at the teen toeing the door shut, still comfortably situated at the top of the staircase. Unwilling to come down and face the issue, heart palpitating too fast to be comfortable.

Roxas waves a hand in a circular motion _—_ an indication for Axel to continue his heartfelt speech _—_ and returns the limb to its cross-armed body hold.  “Roxas,” Axel says his name as though he’s choking on his own yearning and it tears the blond inside, almost makes him want to cave in, but they have to talk about this _here and now_ or else they won’t be getting a second chance like this ever again, “You know that I would do anything for you.”

Roxas covers his overwhelmed state-of-being with a sarcastic, “I’m aware of your freak suicidal tendencies, yes.” Hopefully, his voice doesn’t shake.

Axel snorts, but there’s no humor behind it. “Then it should come as no surprise when I tell you that _—”_

With a silent click, Roxas fully shuts the door, pushing his back into it. He holds onto himself even tighter, conflicting emotions clashing on his face. Axel loses the grains of lingering forced mirth when he sees Roxas like this, insecure yet strangely determined. “I know, Axel. I’ve known all along.”

The redhead stares, dumbfounded. His mouth uselessly opens and closes in a rather silly way, appearing like a gaping fish out of water. “Y-You do?”

Roxas takes one step down the porch. “I saw what you did back there, for Sora. I saw you _die_ , Axel, right before _my_ eyes, before Sora’s eyes.” A step. “I was there, in spirit or whatever, unable to do anything. Screaming at you to stop it.” Another step. “I never wanted any of this. Never wanted for you to go the lengths that you did for me, to destroy yourself in the process. I’m not worth it _—_ I’ve never been worthy of big sacrifices.” _Step, step._ “You’re just like Sora _—_ willing to die for the ones who are dear to you, ready to tear yourselves apart. Set yourselves on fire so that others can feel warm.”

Axel is a foot away, yet it feels as though they’re miles apart.  As though he’s someplace Roxas won’t ever be able to reach _—_ a speck of color situated on top of a tower. Roxas takes in a shaky breath and looks up, meets Axel’s wandering gaze. “I _hate_ it. Never do that again, alright? I’d rather you live than try to self-destruct to mourn me or bring me back.” Hands shaking due to tension, badly enough to feel like they’re about to wilt, Roxas tries to make it quick, grabbing at Axel’s wrists to make sure his words carry well.

It extracts a harsh intake of breath. Something close to pain twists Axel’s handsome face into a grimace as he grabs onto the short blond’s shoulders, hands uselessly milling about _—_ touching the neck, smoothing out the creases of his shirt, cupping fire-hot cheeks, thumbs sweeping under dark circles of cobalt-blue eyes. Roxas nearly ignites.

Axel looks too damn close to crying when he grinds out through grit teeth, holding onto the other’s face, harsh enough to almost hurt. He leans down to keep steady eye contact. “Roxas, you don’t _understand _—”__ Axel hisses, lower lip trembling. “I’d do anything, I _—”_

“I get it,” Roxas says quietly, focusing on Axel’s dog-tags instead of his face. He doesn’t think he can do it at the moment. “I feel the same way, I understand.”

“You don’t,” Axel whispers and it turns into a mantra _—_ a scared man, one unwilling to let go but visibly trying to force himself to. It sounds pathetic and so unlike Axel that Roxas right about snaps, frustration overtaking the embarrassment and the lingering bits of shyness.

“But I do!” he nearly yells, determined. Axel startles, takes a step back and lets go of Roxas’ face as though burned. “I do, god damn it, I feel the same way!” Letting his emotions take full control of his body, Roxas finds himself on autopilot, hands buried deep in soft crimson strands, pulling this mess of a man into himself with enough force to harshly knock their foreheads together. Axel yelps but does not move away and Roxas shows no indication of letting go anytime soon, no less loosening the steely grip. “I like you too, damn, why’s that so hard for you to comprehend!?” he shouts into Axel’s face, taking in the dilation of his pupils, thousands of colors shimmering in his irises. Sucks in frustrated breaths, searches Axel’s eyes for an _answer_.

A flicker of conflicting emotions pass over his cat-like eyes and Roxas takes a moment to _breathe_ while Axel swallows at least six times, one eyebrow twitching wildly.

“ _Roxas_ ,” he says it again and the name sounds so broken and raw that the aforementioned boy wants nothing more than to put a hand over that traitorous mouth and die simultaneously. “I don’t think we should _—_ _”_

“Don’t you even start with me – don’t tell me what we should and shouldn’t. We’re not exactly your average people; a split person inside the body of a replica and a man whose time had stopped moving for a fucking decade, and who had to die _twice_ just to get a second chance. We’re here and we’re finally _alive_ in this moment. This is our chance, our only chance. You’re my best friend Axel, don’t tell me that this is going to change anything,” Roxas nearly _begs_ , running careful fingers over the sides of Axel’s angular face, gently pushing away the straying strands.

“I need you to think about it, alright? Really think about what you want,” Axel tells him slowly, dislodging himself from Roxas’ needy grip. “Can you do that for me? Tell me your answer afterwards.” He looks at Roxas with so much affection, so damn softly that he _doubts_ that Axel needs any sort of confirmation or reply from him – Roxas sure as hell doesn’t. Hasn’t needed one since his days at the Organization, back when Axel looked at him as though he meant the entire world.

Perhaps they knew it all along. It was only a matter of time, now that he thinks about it.

And time? It’s something that they _finally_ have.

“Axel, I _—_ ” Roxas begins, but the redhead cuts him off with a gentle tap on the shoulder.

“Tomorrow, alright? You can tell me tomorrow.”

And what else is Roxas supposed to do other than take a few steps back, steel his crumbling resolve and nod, giving Axel the softest look he’s capable of mustering. As soft as his pride allows him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Axel,” Roxas says _—_ no more than a whisper of breath, a reminder of the past. Of partings back at their old headquarters and the Clock tower.

Axel looks like he’d rather disintegrate into the nothingness than leave him behind, but only smiles as he turns away. “See you tomorrow.”

* * *

 

At the first rays of dawn King Mickey sends a concerned look Axel’s way and moves to open the portal, magic swelling in the air around the entrance to the Clock tower. Unfazed, Axel doesn’t even bother to to admire the display of power that Mickey seems to portray as nearly-effortless, gaze locked onto a dingy alleyway squeezed in between old-fashioned apartments. It remains empty with the exception of a stray kitten rustling around inside an overturned garbage can looking for scraps of food.

No one is coming, and from the looks of it, no one will.

“It’s time, Lea,” Mickey calls out, a saddened frown pulling at the corners of his mouth.

They’re already ten minutes late for the departure. It seems that Roxas wouldn’t be showing up after all.

With a defeated look, Axel finally peels his eyes away from the bleeding horizon, slowly turning the King’s way, as if deliberately. “Guess you’re right. We better get going.”

The crackling of charged mana making up the blue portal is loud enough to drown out the rushed padding of feet hitting the cobblestoned street. A yell, loud enough to disturb the peace of 5 a.m. Twilight town and startle all things awake, resounds in the empty street, halting King Mickey’s steps.

“Axel!” Roxas calls out from somewhere ahead and the redhead takes a few steps in the direction of the lone figure emerging from the shadows of an alleyway, for some reason located in the opposite direction of Roxas’ home. “Wait up!”

He looks like a mess, pale hair tousled with sleep and sweater on backwards, a skateboard pressed into his side. With a muffled curse, Roxas stumbles forward and loses a shoe but doesn’t bother to halt and pick it up, sparing it no attention. His eyes are focused on Axel alone, shining with determination and a force pushing him forward. Axel notices that his khaki shorts look a little dirty and there’s a bleeding bruise on the side of his shin _—_ skateboarding must’ve been fatal, especially when Roxas used his shoes as slippers whenever he was in a rush _—_ but he has no time to run it over inside his head because Roxas is throwing away his ride and flinging himself at Axel with enough force to nearly send them toppling over. Axel puts his arms around the short teen to stabilize him, something close to a laugh trying to force its way out of him.

They hug for a few seconds but it seems like an eternity with Roxas’ feet barely touching the ground and his fingers tight in the hood of Axel’s old organization coat. He clings on with his entire might and Axel dares not move away, as though afraid that the other might disappear into nothingness the moment he does.

“Sorry I’m late,” Roxas mutters somewhere into his collarbone, face mushed into the fabric. “Stayed up all night and then slept in. Took a shortcut that wasn’t a shortcut at all.”

“It’s okay,” Axel croaks out, sounding winded and sore. “It’s okay. You’re here.”

“I’m here,” Roxas confirms and Axel feels a hitch in his breath and a swell in his chest. He can feel his heart _—_ _a heart _—__ squeeze inside his chest. It’s a pleasant feeling, one that leaves him tingling and warm, holding on tighter. “I’ll be here for as long as you want me to.”

Roxas looks up and the world around him is red with the exception of two green specks, glistening with happy tears. “I’m glad,” is all that Axel says before he picks up the flustered kid up and spins him around, peals of laughter drowning out the faint sounds of the rising city.


End file.
